MRS. ELLEN'S CAT
   by Tony Hann

Maybe what I relate here would be called cruelty to animals, but I tell it now without fear of repercussion because the statute of limitations has long since passed on this prank.

This has to do with a cat, our skiff, my brother Pat, my father Pat, and the Atlantic Ocean.

Mrs. Ellen Pittman, Jack's mother, had a big orange coloured tom cat. This cat was huge. Myself and Pat would sneak to the wharf after enticing the cat with some sort of goodies to come with us.

Of course, when everything was in place we would take the cat aboard our skiff named the Mary Maureena, jump ashore, call the cat and we received immense enjoyment from this because every time we would call the cat, over the gunnel he'd jump and swim ashore again and again. That cat never learned but I DID.

One day just as we had boarded the skiff, Pat heard Dad coming. He quickly jumped ashore. I followed. My foot got tangled in the rope that was used to haul in the skiff. A hitch developed in the rope around my foot and there I was all tangled up looking for Neptune.

Pat hadn't heard me, I guess. He hot-footed it around the stage and up the path like a cat on a hot tin roof. (No pun intended here).

He met Dad coming around Grandfather Hann's house. My Father had heard the splash when I fell in the water. Good he did, because Pat would have said I wasn't on the wharf.

They both came back, and fished me from the position I was in, which wasn't difficult as I was tied up neatly.

We both got a good scolding, nothing more. I guess our Father was relieved that I was OK and it was funny even though I couldn't swim.

I remember we took the cat from the boat afterwards, the only time that old tom cat didn't have to swim for it. Looking back on it I think the cat probably enjoyed what we did to it as much as we did ourselves.

Although I had many more encounters with the water, I never again bothered Mrs. Ellen Pittman's tom cat. In fact I was kind of scared of it. Who knows? Maybe that cat was smarter than we thought, and softly purred to himself, and thought to himself, ‘one tormentor gone,’ as the bubbles came to the surface and I hung there searching for Neptune. Eight more times I managed to fall overboard. I never did find Neptune nor did I teach myself to swim. But for someone who was so fond of ending up in the water I don't know why I didn't. DO YOU?